Count Valieri's Prisoner

chapter THIRTEEN



HE WAS IN the hall, pacing restlessly, his face strained and brooding. He came across to his mother, took her hands and kissed them, and then her cheek.

‘And now I deal with what remains to be done, Mammina.’ He looked down at her searchingly. ‘I proceed as we agreed? You have not changed your mind?’

‘Justice will be done,’ said the Contessa. ‘That is what matters. And our decision is made.’

He bent his head in affirmation, and Maddie felt a faint shiver pass through her.

He is Crime. I am Punishment.

She’d thought Andrea didn’t know what he’d taken on with Nigel Sylvester. She now saw that the boot was on the other foot.

As they left the villa to walk back to the car, Maddie glanced back and saw a familiar face peering at her from a front window, her clenched fist extended.

‘What does this mean?’ She demonstrated.

Andrea frowned. ‘It is the mano cornuto,’ he said brusquely. ‘Protection against the evil eye. I suppose it is Domenica?’

‘Yes, but I think she’s being a little over-cautious.’ She tried to speak lightly. ‘After all, she’s never going to see me again.’

‘I am sorry she ever saw you at all,’ was the harsh return. ‘I put her in charge of you because my mother taught her to speak English, and I thought it would make matters easier. I see now that it was a mistake.’

‘Your mother’s English is wonderful,’ she ventured.

‘She learned languages as part of her training. She is also fluent in French, and can speak some German.’

She was silent for a moment, then said with constraint, ‘If the letter does what you want, do you think she will sing again?’

He shrugged. ‘Non lo so. Who can tell?’

Which closed another conversational avenue, thought Maddie, her throat tightening. But why should that matter when Jeremy was only a relatively short drive away from her and they would be going home together? As soon as I see him, she told herself restlessly, as soon as he takes me in his arms, everything will be all right again. Besides, I can stand up to his father now, which will make our future together so much easier.

I know it.

And she kept whispering these three words under her breath like a mantra as they drove swiftly and silently back to Casa Lupo.

At the house, a strange car was waiting at one side of the drive, its driver leaning against the bonnet and smoking a cigarette.

Eustacio was standing on the steps, his expression frankly anxious, as he watched his employer’s car come to a halt. As Andrea left the vehicle, he was greeted by a flood of Italian, and he paused for a clearly soothing word before allowing Maddie to precede him into the house.

In the hall, she paused, staring at the wall of panelling, the final barrier, and heard Andrea just behind her say very quietly, ‘Maddalena.’

She had a crazy, terrifying impulse to turn and fling herself into his arms, to beg him to hold her and keep her safe forever, and found herself fighting it with every atom of resolve she possessed.

‘My name is Maddie,’ she said. ‘Maddie Lang. And I’d like to see my fiancé, please.’

Watching him open the door into the salone, Maddie’s heart was thudding painfully and she was conscious of a slight feeling of nausea.

She thought, Jeremy’s waiting for me but I don’t want to go in there. I don’t want to face him, yet I must. I must...

Then adjured herself sharply for being a fool, because this was the moment she’d been waiting for over all these long days and nights. This and nothing else...

It had to be.

Head high, she marched past Andrea into the room and stopped dead, her hand flying to her mouth, because the man rising from a chair beside the fireplace was not Jeremy at all but a complete stranger, of more than medium height and corpulent with thinning grey hair and a florid face.

He said, ‘You’ll be Miss Lang. For a supposed kidnap victim you seem to be kept on a pretty loose rein. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting?’

Andrea said evenly, ‘If we had known of your arrival, signore, the inconvenience could have been avoided.’

The newcomer looked him up and down. ‘I’m here to make a delivery to a Count Valieri, while you, young lady, pack your things. We’re catching an evening flight from Genoa.’

Maddie stiffened, but Andrea was intervening courteously. ‘I think your name is Simpson, signore. May I welcome you to my home?’

‘We don’t have time for that,’ the older man said sharply. ‘My instructions are to do the business and leave with the girl.’ He turned to Maddie. ‘Hurry up, dear. You’ve caused enough trouble without making us miss that plane.’

She said in a shaking voice, ‘How dare you talk to me like that? And where is Jeremy, my fiancé? Why isn’t he here?’

He pursed his lips. ‘You think my client would allow him to walk into another extortionist trap? Oh, no, sweetheart. Your little escapade has cost quite enough.

‘And I’ve been retained to collect you, safe and unharmed as promised by your kidnapper and return you to London.’

He opened a briefcase beside his chair and extracted an envelope. ‘As for the so-called Count, he gets this in exchange for you. And I want a receipt.’

Andrea’s smile was icy. ‘I hope you will not object if I check the contents of the envelope before I release Signorina Lang into your custody.’

He took the envelope from the other’s reluctant grasp and walked to the window at the far end of the room, standing with his back turned as he scanned its contents.

Maddie stared at the fireplace where a small fire was burning, wishing the cheerful flames could melt the block of ice inside her.

She thought, Supposing—supposing it doesn’t say what they want? What he’s expecting? What will happen then?

And remembered Floria Valieri’s words, ‘Justice will be done.’

But he came back looking cool and unruffled, the envelope in his hand.

‘Your client has kept his word,’ he said. ‘I shall keep mine. I will arrange for Signorina Lang’s clothes and other possessions to be packed and brought down immediately.’

‘I think,’ Maddie said coldly and quietly, ‘that is for me to decide, so please both of you stop talking about me as if I wasn’t here.’ She turned to the older man. ‘I shall not be travelling with you, Mr Simpson, tonight or at any other time. Explain to your client that I arrived alone and I shall go back alone when I choose to do so, using my own return ticket.’

‘Those aren’t my client’s instructions.’

‘You’re paid to do his bidding,’ said Maddie. ‘I, however, am not.’ She added crisply, ‘And if he wished me to comply, he should have sent a messenger with a different attitude. Tell him that as well.’

‘But he’ll be waiting...’

‘And I’ve been waiting too,’ Maddie returned. ‘For quite a long time, considering I expected to be out of here in forty-eight hours at most. Maybe you should also mention that.’

Mr Simpson turned on Andrea. He seemed to be swelling visibly. ‘This breaks the agreement.’

Andrea shrugged. ‘How can that be?’ he drawled. ‘I have released Signorina Lang. She is no longer under my control—or that of anyone else, it seems. Nor can I force her to return with you.’ He paused meditatively. ‘You could, I suppose, drag her to your car, but I would not recommend it.’

‘Nor would I,’ said Maddie.

‘I’m beginning to think you’re in this with him,’ Mr Simpson said glaring at her. ‘Maybe I should take that envelope back.’

‘Then think again, because you will not get it.’ Andrea’s tone was ice. ‘Let us not stray into the realms of fantasy, signore. The signorina and I met for the first time on the night she was brought here and she has been held against her will ever since. Only two days ago, she risked her safety and her health by trying to escape. She will rejoin her future husband when she chooses to do so.’

‘And what guarantee does he have of that?’ Mr Simpson demanded.

‘My sworn promise,’ Andrea said quietly. ‘Which once again he will have to trust.’ He crossed to the door and opened it. ‘Addio, signore. I cannot pretend it has been a pleasure.’

Mr Simpson hesitated, as if searching for a reply, then contented himself with grabbing his briefcase and storming out. A moment or two later, his car was heard to roar off down the drive.

Maddie said roundly, ‘What an obnoxious little toad.’

Andrea closed the door and walked back to where she was standing. ‘Even so, that was not wise, Maddalena.’

She stared at him. ‘You think I should have gone with him?’

‘You have told me many times that you only wished to be free,’ he countered harshly. ‘To prove it you ran away. Now it is over, and you have the chance to leave and every reason to do so, but instead you stay. Why?’

The enormity of the question and its implications made her reel inwardly, grasping at straws to answer him. Didn’t he know? Hadn’t he sensed her emotional turmoil? Guessed the reason for her inner confusion?

‘I—I suppose I was a bit thrown.’ Her voice was uneven. ‘I was so sure that it would be Jeremy here today. That he would come for me himself. I—I was counting on it.’

Which was certainly the truth.

He said flatly, ‘I am sorry your faith was not rewarded.’

She swallowed. ‘But I’ll go tomorrow, if Camillo can be spared to drive me to Genoa. I’ll find a hotel there, until I can get a plane home.’

Unless you ask me to stay...

‘That will not be necessary. I shall make arrangements for you to be on the next convenient flight tomorrow.’ He held out the envelope. ‘As this is the reason for your recent ordeal, you should read it.’

He added quietly, ‘It will confirm everything you learned earlier today. So take it, Maddalena, per favore.’

The single sheet was hand-written, the pen in places almost gouging narrow channels in the expensive paper.

Maddie found she was holding it with her fingertips, as if to avoid contamination as she scanned the closely written lines, beginning ‘I, Nigel Walton Sylvester...’

He admitted everything, without excuse or apology. The money had been taken from dormant foreign accounts to finance his private share deals. These high-risk investments had been unsuccessful, and he had not been able to conceal what he had done by repaying the money.

He had realised Tommaso Marchetti’s investigation into irregularities in the Milan branch would lead to his disgrace and an inevitable jail sentence. Determined to save himself at all costs when the other man refused to help cover up his illegal activities, he had deliberately laid a false trail, implicating his former friend as the real thief.

In court, it would have been a matter of one man’s word against another’s and he was confident that the evidence he had fabricated would lead to a conviction, when the case came to trial.

In the event, because of the prison stabbing, this belief was never tested.

But he now declared that Tommaso Marchetti was innocent of all the charges brought against him.

This was followed by his signature and the date.

Maddie drew a deep breath as she handed the letter back. ‘Your father was his friend,’ she said. ‘Yet he doesn’t say one word of regret or remorse about his death.’

‘The letter was written under protest, Maddalena, not out of decency. He wished only to stop me making public the evidence I already possessed.’

‘When—when did he learn about that?’

He shrugged. ‘Forgive me, but I do not remember.’

‘No?’ She smiled bitterly. ‘I bet it was when you discovered that he wouldn’t lift a finger to get me back, and you needed to exert some real pressure.’

‘Non importa. He has confessed, and my father has been vindicated at last. That is what matters.’

‘But it can’t end there,’ Maddie protested. ‘You have his confession. You must intend to use it.’

‘We wished for reparation,’ Andrea said simply. ‘He has made it. Also, he has had to refuse the great honour intended for him. For such a man that is punishment enough, I think. So now, I will take the action agreed with my mother.’

He tore the letter across, walked to the fireplace and dropped the pieces on to the flickering flames.

‘Oh God,’ Maddie said appalled, and would have made a grab for them if he hadn’t restrained her. ‘What have you done? Have you gone completely mad? You’ve destroyed your most valuable piece of evidence.’

‘But how will he ever know?’ Andrea asked quietly. ‘Unless you tell him.’

She said slowly, ‘“Justice will be done.”’ She sighed. ‘I understand now what your mother meant.’ She paused. ‘It—it’s been quite a day. I think I’ll go to my room for a while.’

‘As you wish.’ He crossed the room and opened the door for her. ‘Can you remember your way, or shall I send for Luisa?’

‘I can manage.’ She glanced at him under her lashes. ‘By now I could probably find your hidden doors, if I was pushed.’

‘Or those you have seen, at least.’ His smile was swift and polite.

Treating her, she thought, as if she was a guest—nothing more. And a guest who had outstayed her welcome. But then what else had she really expected...?

He added, ‘Until later, then.’

And Maddie nodded, smiling back, and left him, her hands clenched by her sides to conceal the fact that they were trembling.

When she reached the suite, she went into her room and threw herself face downwards across the bed, pressing herself into the mattress as if it might open up and hide her.

She thought, ‘What am I going to do? Oh God, what am I going to do?’

Somehow she had to get through the rest of the day—and the night—without revealing the seething turmoil within her. To deal with the stranger that Andrea had suddenly become.

It was almost better when he’d been her enemy, she thought. Then, at least, he had looked at her as if she was human.

No, she amended quickly and guiltily. He’d looked at her as if she was a woman. She’d sensed it from the beginning, responded to it, at first against her will, then quite deliberately in an attempt to ameliorate a dangerous situation.

But only to be caught in her own trap, finding herself drawn to him and wholly unable to resist his attraction. This urgent, aching need he’d somehow awoken in her. And which he’d seemed to share.

Yet now...

She buried her involuntary moan in the pillow.

I never meant it to happen, she whispered silently, as if placating some unseen malevolent force. And I should have believed him when he said it was over. Should have made myself leave with the hateful Simpson.

Because she knew now that nothing—nothing—could be worse than inhabiting this—limbo she’d been consigned to.

At last she got up wearily, loosened her hair, removed her skirt and top and, after a brief trip to the bathroom to wash her face and hands in cool water, slid under the coverlet and tried to sleep.

It was not easy. Image after image chased through her mind, and all of them Andrea—devouring her with his eyes as she descended the stairs towards him, kneeling to attend to her blistered feet, and, above all, pleasuring her with such potent lingering sweetness that she ached at its memory.

Memories that were all she would have to take with her when she left.

Eventually, the pictures in her head began to blur and slip away and with them, if only for a little while, went the tension, the hurt and the unspoken yearning as she slept.

There were shadows in the room when she opened her eyes, but as she sat up she realised there was light coming from the bathroom together with the sound of the bath filling, and the next moment Luisa appeared in the doorway.

She checked. ‘Scusi, signorina.’ She indicated her watch. ‘E l’ora di cena.’

She went to the closet and extracted the black dress, but Maddie shook her head.

‘No, grazie. I will choose—decidere.’

Luisa’s expression as she hung the dress back in the closet plainly asked ‘What choice?’ But she ducked her head in assent and left Maddie to her own devices.

Her sleep had done her good, she thought, as she went into the bathroom. She had woken, seeing things much more clearly, knowing herself far better than she’d done an hour or so ago.

And, as a result, she’d reached a decision. One last throw of the dice, she told herself. Make—or break.

She sniffed at each of the array of bath essences and picked one with the scent of clove carnations, adding a generous capful to the steaming water.

After she’d bathed and dried herself, she used the matching body lotion rubbing it lightly and sensuously into her skin. She gave a slight grimace as the mirrored reflection of her nakedness showed that she was still bruised from her recent adventure, although the grazes were healing well.

But there was no time for the marks to fade, she thought, as she returned to the bedroom. She had to act now. Tonight.

Besides he already knew what she looked like without her clothes, bruises and all, she reminded herself, her skin warming at the recollection.

She opened the adjoining closet and took the black nightgown and robe from the rail. As she slipped the gown over her head, the delicate fabric, so sheer it was like a dark mist, touched her like a caress.

It hid almost nothing, of course. But wasn’t that exactly why he’d chosen it? And if she’d worn it the first time to throw his challenge back in his face, this time she intended it to be total enticement, she thought with satisfaction as she slid her arms into the sleeves of the robe, and fastened its buttons.

She brushed her hair into its usual smooth fall, before darkening her lashes and emphasising the curve of her mouth with her favourite soft coral lustre.

This time, she made her own way downstairs, underlining her new status as guest rather than prisoner. She walked to the panelling, found the hidden catch and silently opened the door into the salone.

Andrea was standing by the fireplace, staring down at the small heap of glowing logs.

Maddie took a deep breath. ‘You see?’ she announced. ‘I actually managed the door.’

He turned abruptly, glass in hand, standing as if transfixed as Maddie walked towards him, a faint smile playing about her lips.

‘My compliments.’ He did not return the smile. ‘You will be pleased to hear that your flight to London tomorrow has been booked, and that Camillo will drive you to Genoa. Perhaps you can be ready by noon.’

She was not deceived by the implied dismissal or the formal tone in which it was uttered. She had seen the swift flare in his eyes, and the involuntary movement of a muscle in his throat and knew that the significance of her attire—or lack of it—had not been lost on him.

She said with equal civility, ‘That’s very kind of you.’

‘Al contrario. We shall both be relieved when our lives return to normal, and I was anxious that no more time should be wasted.’ He paused. ‘May I get you a drink?’

‘Some white wine, please,’ she said, slightly unnerved by what he had said. This, she thought, was not going to plan.

She took the glass he brought her and raised it in a toast. ‘To the future—whatever it may bring.’

‘For you there seems little doubt.’ He raised his own glass. Drank. ‘You will marry the man you love. Your faith in him has not wavered.’

‘Apart from today,’ she said in a low voice. ‘When he didn’t come to fetch me.’

‘A small misunderstanding, soon forgiven I am sure.’

She stared at him. ‘But you said in his place, you’d storm the place to get me back.’

‘I said a good many things, none of which now matter.’ He briskly finished his whisky and set down the empty glass on the dining table, at which, Maddie noticed with sudden disquiet, only one place had been set.

He added, ‘And now you must excuse me, Maddalena. I am dining elsewhere tonight. I may not return before you go tomorrow, so please accept my best wishes for a safe journey and a happy arrival. What is it your Shakespeare says—that journeys end in lovers’ meetings? I hope it will be true for you.’

He took her nerveless hand and bowed over it. ‘Addio, mia bella. Your fidanzato is a fortunate man.’

Stunned, she watched him walk to the door. She said in a voice she didn’t recognise, ‘I don’t understand. You’re leaving me to spend this evening—our last time together—alone?’

His voice seemed to reach her across a million light years of space. ‘There is no “together”, Maddalena. How could there be? And we can part without regret. One day you will thank me for that, believe me.’

‘Will you at least tell me where are you going?’

He paused. Shrugged. ‘To Viareggio, carissima, as I often do.’ He added softly, ‘But I think you already know that.’

And went.